


Thursday Night

by moon__craters



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: F/M, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Marvel Universe, One Shot, Spider-Man - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 20:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20552060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon__craters/pseuds/moon__craters
Summary: This happens in the Spiderverse universe, before Peter B. Parker and Mary Jane get divorced.  Spider-Man comes home one night pretty beat up, and Mary Jane has to deal with it.





	Thursday Night

Mary Jane Watson moves quickly up the front walk and fumbles for her house key. Her breath comes out in sharp clouds into the night air, and her left hand comes up to hug her coat more tightly around her body. As she gets the key into the right orientation, it falls onto the ground. She huffs and retrieves it. It’s been a long night. 

Finally succeeding in opening the door, she locks it behind her and turns on the light in the kitchen. The rest of the house is dark. Peter must not be home yet. She dumps her psychology textbooks onto the table and throws her backpack off her shoulders. Who knew what a toll night classes would take on her? She wasn’t a teenager anymore. 

A creak sounds upstairs. Mary Jane pauses, but only for a moment. She’s watching her leftovers spin in the microwave. She’s not really hungry, but she has hardly eaten all day. She downs a large glass of water, then digs into the veggie stir fry, chewing purposefully. She can be in bed in ten minutes if she takes her shower the next morning. 

Another creak sounds. Her eyes shift towards the stairs, then back to her plate. She closes her eyes, praying that this could just be a normal night. Please, she thinks, I am so tired. 

By the third creak, she abandons her food and starts towards the stairs. She grabs her handy crowbar and creeps up, staying to the right to avoid any noise. The light is on in the bathroom connected to her bedroom. She can see the slight glow coming out into the hall. She definitely didn’t leave it like that. Her heart thumps wildly, and she steels herself, tightening her grip. Then she marches into her room, surveying carefully, holding the crowbar over her shoulder for a good swing. Her attention fixed on the bathroom, her eyes pass over the far corner of the room. She kicks the door open, but doesn’t see anything other than the reflection of her wild eyes in the mirror. 

She whirls around when she hears a low cough, so quiet she might not have heard it if she wasn’t on high alert. Rather than attacking, her guard drops and she squints, tilting her head.

“Peter..?”

“Hey MJ,” he croaks in reply. She moves closer, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. He’s draped across the bed, halfway sitting up with his legs hanging off, as if he tried to get fully in and that’s as far as he got. His familiar red and blue Spider-Man suit is torn and cut, with blood seeping through in several spots.

She covers her mouth, eyebrows furrowing in concern. She hurries over, hesitantly reaching to touch his face. “What happened?”

“It’s no big,” he grimaces, “deal.”

She pulls back. “Don’t move,” she says, turning back to the bathroom.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he laughs, then grabs at his ribs. 

“I said don’t move!” She’s back with a hefty first aid kit in hand. “Now, what happened?” She slowly pushes his legs onto the bed as gently as she can. He groans and sucks a breath through his teeth. 

“Sheesh MJ!”

“I’m being as careful as I can!” She slides latex gloves onto her hands and grabs the fabric of his mask under his chin, pulling it off his face. His eyes are closed and his mouth is gaped open slightly, breathing heavily through bloodied lips. She can’t tell if the blood comes from his nose or mouth, so she starts cleaning his face with a damp cloth after flipping the bedside lamp on for better lighting. 

“When will it be enough, Peter?” He doesn’t reply, so she keeps talking. “One day, you won’t come home at all. You will give your life for this city.”

His eyes shoot open, brown eyes focusing in on her face. “Yes,” he says fiercely. “I will.”

She pushes her mouth in a firm line and drops the cloth back into the bowl of water. She regards him for a moment, but neither of them backs down. With a sigh, she starts easing his suit off his shoulders. She uses a fresh cloth to wipe the drying blood off his chest and arms, paying close attention to the way his breathing changes, indicating where he’s more sensitive. 

Peter opens his mouth, and she jerks away from him, afraid she’s hurt him. “It was just a fight that got a little out of hand. They were trying to ambush me; they knew I’d come. It was just stupid. I solved it,” he says, finishing with a tilted smile and his eyes searching hers, trying to make up for the sharp words.

Mary Jane wants to roll her eyes. They have this same fight every time he comes back like this, but she takes the bait. “I’m sure you did,” she smiles back, then presses gently down on his ribs. He gasps, his head falling back.

“Definitely broken,” she comments, reaching for the bandages. With her help, Peter sits up and leans heavily on her so she can reach around him to wrap him up. She doesn’t mind the heat and weight of his body, and she cradles the back of his head briefly before guiding him back down onto the bed. She continues working with quick and steady fingers, cleaning blood and finding the cuts. His eyes are closed, but she knows he’s awake from the way his breathing quickens as she prods. She threads a suturing needle, preparing to stitch up the larger wounds that won’t close on their own.

“Peter?”

He cracks one eye, then catches sight of the needle, looking a little sick. He closes his eye again, nodding a tiny fraction to let her know he’s ready. Mary Jane reaches over to squeeze his hand once, and then begins, carefully puncturing his skin in the right spots to pull the cuts shut. She works as quickly as possible, losing herself in her concentration, all drowsiness forgotten.

At last, she sits back, disposing of the needle and ripping her gloves off. She runs to the bathroom to wash her hands and change into different clothes, leaving her bloodied shirt to soak in the sink. She returns, dimming the lights and climbing into the other side of the bed. She props herself up on an elbow and brushes the hair out of Peter’s face. A smile creeps onto his face and he leans into her touch. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“How do you feel?” Mary Jane whispers.

“Brand new, thanks to you.” He opens his eyes and lifts a hand to hers, intertwining their fingers. “Seriously, MJ, I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you.”

Her chest clenches painfully. “I love you too. I’m scared—I worry. And every time you come back like this…. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t. I’m Spider-Man. Nothing can happen to Spider-Man!”

“Peter, can you be serious for one minute?” Tears spring to her eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He drags their clasped hands upward to brush a tear away with his knuckle. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I love you, but I have a duty to this city—”

“You don’t,” Mary Jane mutters, starting up a recurring argument.

“Yes, I do,” he says sharply. “And I don’t expect you to understand.”

She drops his hand and rises up to a sitting position. “You don’t expect me to understand? Really? Then what is this? Me waiting around for you to come home, or not. Stitching you up and sitting with you all night to make sure you’re okay. This is me not understanding?”

“I didn’t mean,” Peter takes a deep breath, wincing and holding his ribs. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant that you don’t know what it’s like to be Spider-Man with hundreds of people depending on you to protect them. And the sense of responsibility for all that goes wrong in this city. And then on top of that, trying to live a regular life and trying to be a good husband to you.”

“Did you really list that as one of the challenges? Being married to me?” She can feel the heat rising to her cheeks. 

“MJ! I’m trying to explain myself and you’re only hearing certain parts. Can you just listen?”

She stands up, folding her arms into herself, then turns and walks from the room.

“Come on!” Peter calls after her, but she walks down the stairs and ends up in the kitchen. She rakes her hands through her hair and pulls at it, her head pounding from her anger. Then she begins pacing, muttering under her breath, the kitchen floor creaking as she walks around and around. She rationalizes with herself; Peter is only doing what he thinks is right. He didn’t mean to sound like such a jerk. Probably. They love each other and they can get through it. But they had been fighting more often… 

Mary Jane loses track of time, but when her head comes up, feeling clearer, the gleaming numbers on the microwave say 1:53. She grabs an ice pack from the freezer and heads back upstairs. She tiptoes up to the foot of the bed, watching him for a moment to determine if he’s asleep or not. Careful not to shift him, she climbs into bed, but the mattress dips towards her and he opens his eyes. 

“MJ,” he begins, his voice hoarse. 

“Here.” She presses the ice into his side, and he groans slightly. 

“Thank you. It’s not a challenge being married to you. And I shouldn’t have said you don’t understand. You’re probably the only one who understands.”

She dips her head, accepting his apology. “Sorry for my selective hearing. I worry about you, and that will never stop.”

“I know. But try to trust me too, okay? I’m doing my best to stay safe out there so I can come home to you.”

She nods, warmth spreading in her chest. 

“Come here.” He reaches out for her, and she settles into his side, gently snuggling into him. His deep breathing calms her, and soon they both drift off to sleep.


End file.
